


Preventative Measures

by ruthlesslistener



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (Bc this is Crybaby Ryo we are talking about here), Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bc it's Akira and Ryo it's bound to be kinky and emotional, Blowjobs, Casual mentions of Satan, Demon Sex, Demons, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Sex, Episode Fix-it, Fluff and Smut, Intersex Ryo, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of repressed memories and falling angels, Praise Kink, Repressed Feelings, Should I tag everything or should I just leave it to interpretation hmm, Well this happens after the episode but you get the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 15:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14240274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthlesslistener/pseuds/ruthlesslistener
Summary: It occurs to him, once Akira blinks awake in his arms, that he cannot let something like this happen again.The demon who nearly took his life lies dead- but the danger that it posed does not. Offering an alternative method to slake Amon's desires was something that Ryo thought might be better for Akira, but the longer he looks at the damage a simple demon dressed as a prostitute wreaked, the more he's starting to reconsider.He'd do anything for Akira's safety anyways. Offering up his body is the least he could do to keep him safe- it wasn't like he hadn't wished to do it at some point, anyways.





	Preventative Measures

**Author's Note:**

> First of many devilman one-shots and of fucking course it's smut. I mean, in my defense, smut is easiest with these two because of Akira's perpetual demon boner, but like. All my smut fics are unreasonably long. Dammit.
> 
> Ryo is intersex in this fic bc honestly why the fuck not. He doesn't quite have both working sets, but he does have slight breasts and a slit, though not one made for fucking with. Being reborn as a human from a fully angelic form that /technically/ has no real figure (since angels can technically be flaming winged eyeballs on top of humanoids apparently?? Wacko) doesn't always score you with the ''''''ideal''''''' body. If that might bother you, though, it's barely mentioned. Just wanted to give y'all a FYI just in case someone has dysphoria here.

It occurs to him, once Akira blinks awake in his arms, that he cannot let something like this happen again.

The demon that nearly took his life stands as a statue outside, frozen in the sun, and though Ryo knows very well that it’s long dead, some small, burning part of him not focused on helping Akira back up wants to hurt it. Wants to pull out his gun and spray bullets across its face until it no longer looked like a woman, shear those pitiful wings off its head so it no longer looked like it’s about to fly. It’s a tempting thought- for though Ryo has no interest in females, he can tell the demon once had a pretty face, and a pretty body, and he knows exactly what it used it for- but the small nugget of hatred burning in his chest is far outweighed by the need to keep Akira alive and safe, and is easily smothered. By the time Akira’s eyes finally manage to focus on him, it’s already been long extinguished.

(And though it could not have taken more than a few seconds, it makes Ryo’s chest twinge with pain to see Akira’s beautiful brown eyes so dull, so lifeless. He’s an excellent liar, particularly to himself, but he cannot fool himself into thinking that the agony of seeing Akira so badly hurt was trivial. He cannot suppress the fact that seeing him lying comatose made him feel like he was drowning. Fear was nothing more than the most basic of instincts, barely categorizable as an emotion, something Ryo was quite good at ignoring- and yet, he had felt it.

(Akira can’t die. He  _can’t_ _._ For him to no longer be by his side would be as impossible as the sun to burn out while he still lived, for that was what Akira was to him: the sun to his tired grey world. He would always be by his side, smiling, laughing, a warm, inescapable presence. There was no way that Ryo could survive without that; there was no way his life would go on without Akira. It was unfathomable.)

So perhaps it was with that revelation in mind that made him close his laptop when he noticed Akira fidgeting a few days later, restless in that itchy unhappy way that he was when Amon was stirring just under his skin. He had been on edge after the fight as well, once his energy had not been put towards healing himself- it had been clear that whatever had transpired between Akira and the demons had not culled his hunger. Ryo could not help but be cautious about what danger Akira might throw himself into to alleviate his demonic urges- this time, if his plan worked out, hopefully none. He knew for sure he wouldn’t be wasting his money on prostitutes again, though.

(He doesn’t want to admit how the thought of offering that again makes him bristle.)

“Is Amon troubling you again?” A silent nod was his only answer, offset by a moody scowl that made the edges of Akira’s lips turn down far enough to show the gleaming white tip of one sharp canine. A lesser man might be afraid- but Ryo was no lesser man, and he knew Akira better than he knew himself. His frown, no matter fierce, had all the bite of a newborn puppy to it; in a strange, macabre way, it was almost endearing.

(Almost.)

“Mmmm.” He trailed his eyes down Akira’s body, looking for subtle cues about what might be causing Akira’s current mental state. Flushed face, heat, an inability to sit still. Embarrassment, as was per usual of Akira everytime Amon needed to satiate his lust. Hips turned away, a complete opposite of the loose, open posture Ryo normally saw from him, a crossed leg, thrown over the other, almost as if to hide-

“Oh,” Ryo said, and could not help the slight note of intrigue that crept into his voice. “You’re aroused.”

Akira’s shoulders jerked violently, almost as if he’d stuck his hand in a light socket, and he threw his hands into his lap and hunched them forward as if he could keep them still by force of sheer will. The look he gave Ryo was absolutely mortified- and oh. _Oh._ It was quite nice, to see him flustered like this again. Strange warmth bloomed in Ryo’s chest, crept slowly up the interior of his ribcage as he watched him wriggle in his seat. Everything Akira did was special to him in some way, but this- this was priceless.

“I’m sorry.” Akira’s voice was verging on the petulant whine of a child in trouble, but the glance he threw down to his pants was murderous. Ryo’s shoulders shook slightly as he fought to control his laughter. “I-”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ryo cut in, saving and closing his document. “You didn’t quite get the sexual gratification you needed the other night, as you were attacked by that demon. It’s perfectly normal for you to not feel satiated.” He clicked his computer shut, slid it onto the table, and turned to Akira, calmly noting the way Akira flinched away, still ashamed of his libido- though, to Ryo, this was the exact opposite of a problem. Problems weren’t problems when you had solutions to them, and if there was one thing that Ryo excelled in, it was being the solution to all of Akira’s problems.

Even if that meant using himself as the catalyst.

...Not that he particularly minded that. Akira was one of the most attractive men he knew, if not the most, and he’d seen quite a lot of attractive people in his lifetime.

(In fact, if he was to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t mind the thought of sex with Akira at all- rather the opposite. He never had. But lingering on carnal fantasies was a foolish habit to undertake, a path that opened one’s heart to demons and mistakes, so he didn’t.)

“What’s the matter? Shy?” For Akira still stood hunched away from him, head ducked like a shamed dog, a frown pulling at his lips. Akira’s sensibilities were always a bit more delicate than his-there was probably some social code about not fucking your best friend that he was concerned about; but then again, demon-induced arousal wasn’t a factor within the normal boundaries of most relationships, especially when it was paired with Ryo’s complete lack of care for things as trivial as being nice. But Akira was Akira; he would most likely not react well to the admission that Ryo did not quite mind being ruthlessly fucked against the couch, no matter how hilarious his mortification would be. Out of an impulse Ryo still didn’t quite understand past the knowledge that it made Akira much easier to handle, he softened his voice. “You know I don’t care much about those kinds of things. Your safety is my main priority- do what you will, say what you will. Nothing you do will bother me.”

He could see the effect his words had on Akira instantly, the way they rolled over him like cresting wave, breaking him out of the locked, turned-away picture from before. Akira dropped his shoulders from their hunched position, looked up and into Ryo’s eyes- and Ryo was once again struck by the raw openness he saw within them, struck down as he had been the first time that he had seen them, glassy with tears, the only colour in the dull grey fog of a seaside cliff.

“I don’t remember what I did that night. I don’t know.” His hands fisted on his thighs, drew the dark fabric of his jeans tighter against the bulge between them. Ryo’s eyes followed the creases they made, tried not to let the heat stirring within him make itself known on his face. Akira’s eyes were wild. “I remember looking for a quick fuck, and I remember her scent. I remember fighting her, but not much of it. I remember hurting her.” His words were quick, tight with fear. Ryo did not care much for the details about the demon, but he did care about the worry. Something unpleasant twisted within him, reared its head and made its presence known with every little shiver that made its way down Akira’s body- something that felt a little bit like possessiveness. Something that he couldn’t quire tamp down, no matter how hard he tried. “I...I can’t do that again, Ryo. I can’t. If I meet someone...if I meet someone who’s not the right...I’ll hurt them.”

His voice quavered on the last syllable; his eyes, huge and dark, were already watering dangerously. Ryo hated that look, almost as much as he reveled in it. He hated it, because he hated seeing Akira upset, and because he had long ago vowed to destroy any reason for Akira to cry that was humanly possible. He basked in it, because there was a certain sort of warmth to be taken from standing too close to a man with an open wound of his heart on his sleeve, and Ryo was one hell of a frigid bitch.

And yet...there’s a twist in his stomach, hot and cold all at once, the dizzy sort of feeling one usually got from standing on a precipice. Akira’s stressed. Akira’s stressed, and he’s horny, and he needs release, if he’s going to be in good enough shape to hunt demons later. He’s stressed, and he’s horny, and, because he’s a stubborn fool who cares too much, is currently resisting the idea of a prostitute, under the worry that they don’t know what they’re getting into, and might not be willing to reciprocate.

Ryo knows what’s going on. Ryo knows what he’s getting into. Ryo’s within easy reaching range, just across the couch, already out of his constrictive coat with the collar of his shirt undone. And he’s not at all unwilling to reciprocate, if the boyish flutters of heat he feels in his stomach are any indicator. He’s already heady with the knowledge that if Akira took him up on the offer, it would be Ryo who would satisfy him, and Ryo alone. No prostitutes. No demons disguised as whores. Just him.

And besides, the money he saved from it wouldn’t exactly hurt.   

“So don’t fuck them,” Ryo said, and suddenly his mouth was as dry as a desert, hands hot, wolflike anticipation coiled through his entire body. He says it stiffly and dispassionately enough that they clash against the cold silence of the apartment; for perhaps only the second time in his life, Ryo wishes he didn’t sound so harsh. “Fuck me.”

He could feel Akira’s eyes on him, the incredulous way he looked at him, like there was no other alternative- the way that they dropped when Ryo casually slung a leg to the side and lounged back, a casual, open invitation. When he finally did look up to actually see if Akira is watching him, rather than him just fancying that he was, the fire he sees in his eyes takes his breath away, makes the air in his lungs catch in his throat and choke on it.

Because the look Akira is giving him is raw and hungry and wild and powerful, a force of nature that promises to swallow him up, and he can’t help but delight in the thrill of it, to bask in the knowledge that the devilman curled at the end of the couch could come and take him if he so wishes. Could come and take him if  _Ryo_ wishes, rather, because achingly, unthinkingly, he does. It’s his job to keep Akira happy, safe, and well satiated- it had been his duty for as long as he could remember, the only thing that every felt substantial in a world full of ghosts. It’s the only thing that can make him feel anything more powerful than the slightest of deviations from his apathy, and he’s surprised at how pleased he is at the thought of him giving him what he wants.

But then Akira blinks. And blinks again. And misery floods his features, the fire brought down to embers by the guilt that suddenly seems to sweep over him like a storm. Guilt, and a little something like fear, as he curls in on himself again and holds his hands to his chest, as if that could do anything against the might of a demon’s will.

Ryo’s not perturbed by this, because he already expected the weight of Akira’s golden morals to drag him down, already anticipated the argument that would follow. And so it was that when Akira opened his mouth, as if to say something, he didn’t let him, and instead let his calm, factual evidence against him be heard instead.

“You aren’t going to hurt me. I don’t mind this, and I don’t feel obligated, because I am your friend. I anticipated this occurrence long before you became one with Amon, and found that I had no objection to it.” The pose he was holding his leg in was starting to become uncomfortable. He shifted, curling it under him instead, careful to leave himself on display, to bare the fragile, vulnerable expanse of his neck, chest, and abdomen to Akira, to Amon. The guise of submission, carefully orchestrated without the releasing of power. Ryo figured, from extensive backreading of Akira’s porn history and articles on demons, that he might like this- and he did. The way that Akira sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth was enough of a tell for even the most astute of virgins...only half of which applied to Ryo. But then again, half of it applied to Akira, too. They complimented each other. “You are my responsibility- you have been, ever since I offered to have you merge with a demon. It’s only right that I help you with this.”

Akira’s head bowed, and Ryo’s chest ached. From below its icy shell, his heart was trying to tap its way out, to let his emotions bleed forth in a hot red burst, and he clamped it down. It was already bad enough that the thought of offering himself up was currently overwhelming his instinct to step back and give Akira the space he needed.

(He did that once, and it ended up with Akira almost taken from him. The vicious little place in his mind where he keeps his fangs tucked away thinks, quire venomously, _good_. )

Akira still looks ashamed of himself, his head slumped, moping like a dog. To Ryo, it’s a stupid thing to linger on, when he’s so obviously willing to take care of the issue, but then again, Akira always had morals in places that Ryo does not.

“Akira,” he says, and this time, his voice is softer, a quiet, soothing croon rather than an invitation. It works; Akira’s head jerks up, woeful brown eyes lock with his. Something warm and unwelcome unfurls its wings inside Ryo’s chest. “Anything you want, I’ll give it to you. Anything you need, I’ll provide. Anything that harms you, I destroy. I promised you that, long, long ago now. I won’t go back on it now.”

Akira’s shoulders shift, flex as if spreading out wings, and Ryo’s eyes follow it. He follows the movement all the way from his clavicle up to the strong line of his jaw, and then finally, to his lips; watches the way Akira watches him, the shiver of longing that goes through him the longer his gaze lingers. Akira clearly wants him; he can see it written in his eyes, in the way he holds himself, as if it’s taking everything in him not to pounce, as if one little movement will make his self-control snap.

And yet he still hesitates, one last assurance needed before he breaks. “You really want this?”

“Yes,” Ryo says, and then, with the burning impatience of a man left hanging, “Come here.”

The speed at which Akira appears over him is astounding. One second, Ryo’s looking at him at the end of the couch; the next, he’s hovering over him, all lean, hard muscle and excitement, his dick pressing against Ryo’s thigh. The pulse in his gut settles to a steady throb as Akira’s hips rock against him, once, twice, emulating what he no doubt hoped for, and for a second, Ryo was tempted to let him indulge, take what he wanted of his body for as long as he needed it, efficiency be damned.

But then he’s got his hand twisted in his collar and Akira’s forehead pressed to his, stilling him, because he’s suddenly got an idea he wants to try, and there’s no way in heaven or hell alike that’s going to stop him.

“You said your demonic stamina decreases with the intensity of sexual activities you undergo, right?” Akira whines, heat flooding his cheeks, but all Ryo can focus on is the warmth of his breath, so close to his own mouth. That, and the solution that he concocted up that’s currently making his dick throb with excitement. The feeling is novel enough for him to not mind the few extra moments he takes basking in it; a useful investment. When he talks again, his voice is roughened enough by his arousal to have dropped to a seductive purr. “I believe you also mentioned the ludicrous idea that you thought you could hurt me. Do you want to try to combine those two wishes to achieve an end goal that would be the least detrimental for the both of us?”

He pauses, giving Akira a little time to process that; but then again, he doesn’t really think that he is. His eyes are locked firmly on the curve of Ryo’s mouth, half-shut with his desire, hips grinding tiny circles against Ryo’s thigh. Ryo can’t exactly blame him; there’s a strange heat burning in his chest, tingling in his lips, burning fires in his belly. He can’t remember being this aroused in his life before; but then again, he couldn’t imagine feeling a lot of things, before Akira came along. He forces himself to focus back on topic.“If you’re wondering, I meant bdsm.”

 _That_ got a reaction out of him. Akira choked, hips jerking forward involuntarily, cheeks flushing an even darker red than before. Ryo smiled at that, sinister and coy, and watched the way that sent a shiver up Akira’s spine. He’d meandered enough into Akira’s search history to know he knew exactly what he was talking about. “So?”

“So?” Akira’s voice was as rough choked, but with surprise, not disgust. “Do you even  _know_ how to...to do that? What you need? I’m  _not_ going to whip you, Ryo, or let you do the same to me, even if it does get me off in the end.” Akira lowered himself back down to look at Ryo better; there was a feral sort of hunger written all over his face, but his voice, when it came, was soft. “I know you don’t like to hurt me.”

Ryo blinked, decided not to question it, and then, just as softly back, “I meant restraints and orgasm delay. Would you like me to tie you up and tease you until you beg for it?” His voice came out cold and clinical, control not easily relinquished- he should probably fix that. He licked his lips, and tried again, this time with more of a pure. “I’ve engaged in enough research to drag it out for hours if you wish. It’ll certainly help keep Amon satisfied after.”

Akira closed his eyes, flush deepening, and let out a quiet, shuddering breath. “...You have chains that can hold me? Even once I transform?”

“Yes,” Ryo murmured back, lifting a hand to gently press his thumb to Akira’s pulse. His breathing hitched, heartbeat fluttering like a trapped bird under his touch, and Ryo found himself swallowing the urge to lean up and tease his teeth along the path he knew his jugular to be. “Yes, I have demonproof chains. You’ll be as restrained as you wish to be. If you want to shift at any point during, they’ll be able to expand and hold you in place.”

Akira slowly nodded once, and made a quiet unthinking noise of pleasure that had Ryo struggling to control his breathing. Akira was still rocking his hips against him; Ryo had one addle-minded second to wonder if he was going to come from just that alone before Akira opened his eyes again, big brown pleading pools of warmth that swallowed him right up. “I’ll take them. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ryo had to suddenly swallow around a thickness in his throat.

(Sincere, sweet, gentle, foolish Akira, who would save a dying kitten from the rain and would lash himself down to prevent himself from killing a snake that never cared if it lived or died in the first place. A man with an open heart, one that even the devil could not take. What a stupid thing to be.)

“Alright.” His voice was still soft, softer than he would expect it to be. He touched the sharp line of his collarbone with the finger that had pressed to his neck, and wondered if he’d feel the sharp jut of it against his back once Akira had him under him. “The chains are in my bedroom closet. Let’s go.”

.

.

.

Getting Akira restrained to a suitable degree seemed to take both a few seconds and an age all at once- but once it was done, Ryo couldn’t help but admire his handiwork, quietly pleased with himself for coming up with it. The chains he used were specifically formatted to restrain even the highest ranking demons; there was no way that Akira could get out, not without tearing himself to pieces first. They were, to Akira, a security blanket-one that he hadn’t quite registered the importance of until now. All the half-acknowledged fantasies he’d had before had involved him being shoved to the floor and fucked like an animal, of Akira’s claws raking bloody furrows into his skin as he growled and claimed him as his own, and even though he knew that such scenarios would be scarce, the thought still stirred interest in him, a wild sort of pleasure that resonated on the very base level of his being. He eyed Akira on his bed, taking in the way he subtly strained against the chains, muscles standing out in stark relief as they tested the strength of the iron, and found, with a hint of surprise, that he somehow regretted not talking Akira into going without the restraints. 

He didn’t regret much else, though. Lying with his arms shackled behind his back and his legs tucked and chained underneath him bared Akira to him completely, gave him no chance to shy away from Ryo’s wandering gaze. Ryo could gaze upon the untouched column of his throat for as long as he wished; could let his eyes linger on his pert nipples, hardened with excitement and chill air, could let himself stare at the beads of precome weeping from the flushed head of Akira’s erect cock, could let the hunger show through on his face, all while knowing that the pitiful whimper Akira gave at his expression would not lead to him shying away. He was a present laid out for him to slowly take apart, a dream gift-wrapped for him to claim. The thrill of possession sang a siren song inside his head, made its presence known in his blood, in his groin. He hadn’t felt excitement like this before. He hadn’t been aroused like this for ages, not since he first hit puberty and realized, with a shock that had felt like a lightning bolt, that the thought of getting Akira in bed with him had been the only thing actually worth the time and effort of masterbation.

He’d been interested in him then, and he was interested in him now, even with all the changes that Amon had enacted in his body. His soft edges had been sanded away into sharp points, but that hadn’t changed the nature of what was inside. Akira was still his Akira, no matter what demons had tried to prove otherwise.

And now he had him in his bed, eager and craving his touch, a victory that he had never thought he could sucessfully pursue.

_Ryo- one. Bird bitch- zero._

“Are you just going to stand there staring at me all day? Or are you actually going to get off your ass and do something?” Akira’s voice was rough, undershot with a growl- but the splotches of russet on his cheeks and ears betrayed himself in a way that demon bravado was unable to make up. He jerked against his handcuffs, rattling them to make a point, and Ryo followed the way his abdomen flexed against it with a lazy eye. He was beautiful. “I thought you were trying to help me, not sit on a chair all day and stare at me.”

“I am helping you,” Ryo stated simply. Again and again, his eyes fell to Akira’s dick, and, again and again, he had to force himself to look away. The white leather of his armchair creaked minutely as his fingers tightened against it, the only outward indicator of him suppressing his sudden urge to take him in his mouth and make him beg. His mind felt too big for his body- there was something to this that felt almost sacred, and he didn’t want to tarnish it by giving in to his own desires. This activity was for Akira, after all. “You just haven’t requested anything yet. Say what you want, and I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask.”

“And that’s supposed to _help_ me?” Akira whined. His hips bobbed forward, thrusting against empty air, and Ryo felt his mouth go dry with want. “ _Dammit_ , Ryo, I can’t _think_. Just do _something_ **,** fuck, I don’t care.” His voice tapered from a whine into a snarl- Ryo caught the faint golden glow in his eyes as Amon attempted to come forward, restrained only by the chains and the force of Akira’s will. “I just want something to fuck. Something hot and wet and tight and on my dick right _now_ **.** ”

“That’s a good start,” Ryo tried not to let the shiver of eagerness that ran through him show in his voice. Akira was  _right there_ and he was  _eager_ , and it was taking all of Ryo’s self-restraint not to take what was being offered to him before it was pulled away. He wasn’t lying when he said that he’d do anything he asked him to- anything that would involve Akira touching him would satiate him. “But, frankly, quite unspecific. What do you want me to use? My mouth? My ass?” He licked his lips, crossed one leg over the other, and watched as Akira’s eyes followed the movement, trying to think of what else would appeal to him. “Do you want me on my back, looking up at you? Or do you want me to ride you?” His voice deepened as he spoke, voice becoming a low purr- he was exciting himself with his own talk. Ryo couldn’t help but be a little amused at himself for that- apparently he was not quite as above the necessities of the flesh as he once thought. “Tell me, Akira. Let it all out.” The devilman on the bed tensed, momentary mortification flashing over his face before his eyes turned gold- and Ryo jumped at the opportunity. “I won’t be disgusted by anything you want me to do. Tell me. Tell me everything, everything you want to do, everything you want to do to m-”

“Wanna fuck you,” Akira growled. He hunched forward, jerking at the chains, and his muscles strained with the first few throes of transformation, teeth elongated and sharp. Ryo felt his mouth go dry. “Wanna pin you under me and tear off your stupid fucking clothes and clamp your neck in my teeth and fuck you until your stupid fucking composure is all messed up. Wanna leave you bleeding and covered in your own come and gasping my name, wanna take your mouth and watch you come undone, wanna let me have you,  _please_ **,** Ryo…”

“That’s enough,” Ryo said quietly. Akira  _snarled_ , snapping his jaws in discontent- and then the tension melted away, golden glow fading back to warm brown. Ryo could see the mortification flooding Akira’s face, and decided to stop it before he could try to apologize. “You did exactly what I told you to do, and you even asked politely.” He began to unbutton his shirt, standing up- Akira’s breathing became shallow, eyes locking on to the pale stretch of skin Ryo was slowly uncovering, and he felt a thrill race through him- a thrill that sent a jolt of heat right down to his very core. This time, when he spoke, he didn’t try to keep the arousal out of his voice. “You were  _very_ good. What do you want me to do now?” The shirt was now fully unbuttoned- Ryo tilted his head and held it closed with one hand, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing at what was bound to come next.

Akira licked his lips, his tongue a pink sliver against the faint sheen of the fangs he was trying to keep back. His voice, when he spoke, was gravely with arousal, but quiet, shy, a soft, familiar comfort that flushed warmth through Ryo’s chest. “Um...take off your shirt, please.”

Ryo let go of his shirt, dipping his shoulders to drop it to the floor. Immediately, Akira’s eyes dropped to his chest, but if he was taken aback by what he found there, he didn’t say it. Ryo felt a momentary swell of relief at the lack of dismissal- one that, in hindsight, was utterly idiotic. Akira wouldn’t mind the fact that he was intersex, and he knew it. Akira had never shown repulsion for him before- why would he now? It was stupid to think otherwise, stupid to linger on it, and he knew it. Akira’s next request, when it came, was almost a relief. “Get on the bed.”

“Eager, aren’t you,” Ryo breathed- but he got on the damned bed. The soft, reverent way Akira was looking at him now made it impossible not to- and for a second, he was almost angry about it, angry in a way that made him want to press Akira down into the bed and tease him until he couldn’t think of anything but him. Sitting half-naked in front of a fully naked, fully hard Akira was awkward in a way he hadn’t anticipated, so he relieved his frustrations by tugging off his socks and throwing them across the room. The strain of Akira’s shoulders was starting to bother him, so he picked the key for his shackles off the bed and undid the cuffs on his wrists. “But demons are not known to be patient when they have things they want in front of them. Let’s test your humanity a bit more, shall we?” He looked Akira in the eye, relishing the challenging spark he’d lit in it- this was far better than the gentle warmth. This didn’t make his head or chest hurt, and when he leaned forward to whisper into Akira’s ear and wrapped a hand around him, he once again felt fully in control. “Don’t move.”

Akira growled, a sound more animal than human. Ryo circled his thumb over the head of his dick, wetting his hand with Akira’s precome, and finally let himself look. He was so  **slick** , tip flushed red and shiny with pre, tantalizingly thick and hot in Ryo’s hand- Akira’s tangible desire, all within his grasp. He felt dizzy with the power of it, but didn’t let himself linger on the thought; instead, he lowered himself down, pressed his free hand against the sharp jut of Akira’s hip to make sure it didn’t go anywhere, and gave it a long, slow lick from base to tip.

The strangled, whining gasp that left Akira’s lips was music to his ears, and he rewarded his reaction by pressing his tongue to his slit and closing his mouth. He only had a vague sense of what he was doing, and the taste of cum was a salty, bitter tinge in his mouth, but the  _noises_ Akira was making, the heat of him, the heady high of seeing him pleasured- that was enough. That was more than enough.

He brought his head up, took a deep breath, and slid down on him, as far as he could without triggering his gag reflex. Akira’s hand scrabbled at his shoulder, seeking purchase; Ryo guided it up to his hair, and the jolt of pain he felt as Akira grabbed it a bit rougher than he probably meant sent a thrum of arousal through him, made him hum along the length of his cock. Akira moaned even louder, a high, drawn-out whine that helped spur his determination to take him deeper, to give Akira everything he possibly could, to give him everything he wanted and make him  _his_ **.**

He pulled up, hollowed out his cheeks, and bobbed his head, jaw aching pleasantly with the stretch. Akira cursed above him, a litany of broken phrases that sounded like _Ryo_ _, Ryo,_ _Ryo **fuck**_ , a chorus that pressed him on until he had the head of Akira’s dick pressing against the back of his throat and his nose nuzzling against the rough curls at the base. The muscles under his free hand were tensed iron cords, their only movement the most minute of twitches- Akira was obeying him perfectly, despite his obvious urge to grab his head in both hands and fuck his throat. Most likely, he was just afraid of hurting Ryo, but the knowledge that he was following his commands was a much more tantalising prospect, so he decided to focus on that instead.

And then, all too soon, Akira was tugging at his hair, pulling him up and off his dick with a weak murmur of ‘wait, wait.’ Ryo let him, precome and saliva mixed smearing his lips, and settled on his knees, quirking up an eyebrow. Akira was flushed and breathing heavily- surely he was close. Why, then, would he want to stop? Demon stamina was legendary. He shouldn’t have to worry about a refractory period like normal men would. So what…?

The answer came not a split second later, when Akira awkwardly gestured to Ryo’s still-clothed lower half and muttered, quite shyly, “You haven’t had your chance yet. Let me try.”

_What._

“This activity was done with your pleasure in mind,” Ryo stated, trying not to let his voice be too flat. He wasn’t sure what he felt about that idea- it was tantalizing, yes, but had thrown a wrench into his plans. He’d expected to be fully unclothed only once Amon had grown tired of waiting- not from Akira wanting to give back just what he was being given, though he should have guessed that something like this would have happened, anyways. Akira was just too kind for his own good. “Bringing me to orgasm was not the main priority.”

“But it’s something _I_ want,” Akira said tilting his head, and oh- that soft warmth was back in his eyes again, a sharp contrast from the all-consuming lust before. Ryo almost felt trapped by it, ridiculous as the thought was. “ _Me,_ not Amon.” He gripped Ryo’s waist, pulled him closer, and rubbed his thumbs over the sharp jut of his hips. Ryo felt a wave of arousal rock him at the sudden warmth, of the gentle pressure, so close to where his body wanted his hands to be. Akira was radiating heat, a burning brand against the coolness of Ryo’s skin; his fingers were longer than Ryo’s, thicker, rougher, something that Ryo had already known for ages, but felt so new when they were furled over his hips, pressing him close to Akira’s weeping cock. The knowledge of what was sure to come next had him biting the inside of his cheek, staving off the weird tension rocking his body, the disconcerting sense of being caught in a trap he didn’t know, didn’t understand.

And maybe Akira caught that tension; maybe he just intrinsically knew, the built-in survival instinct that allowed him to worm past Ryo’s razor-sharp tongue and wit also giving him an insider look on how his partner was feeling. Because the very next thing he did was to press a palm to his stomach, right above the buckle to Ryo’s belt, and murmur softly, “You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” Ryo muttered- but it did nothing to deter Akira, who responded by gently bumping his jaw with his nose, nuzzling into his neck like an overeager puppy. The sudden switch of priorities was a shocking contrast from the snarling, sex-hungry demon that he’d started out with; but then again, Akira was  _different_ . Akira alone was strong enough to overcome Amon, emotional enough to act kindly, even when faced with the worst. He was someone that Ryo thought he had all figured out- but as soon as he marked him down as predictable, he surprised him. He was different, and maybe that’s why his mind was clouding over, maybe that’s why-

His thoughts were abruptly cut off when Akira’s lips moved against his neck, curling back to press the sharp points of his eyeteeth into his skin, just hard enough to sting, not hard enough to bite. It was a jarring reminder that the person currently holding him like he was something fragile had torn out the throats of lesser men with those teeth, had rent demon flesh to pieces with one quick jerk of his head. The cold thrill of adrenaline flooding Ryo’s veins built, up and up, until Akira finally licked the spot, pressed a quick kiss, and  _bit._

The sound that came out of Ryo’s voice wasn’t human- at first, he hadn’t thought that it came from him at all. But no, there was air being pushed from his lungs, and a vibration in his throat that had nothing to do with the hungry growls rumbling in Akira’s chest- he’d moaned, high and loud and clear, a quick, startled noise that sounded more like the whine of a cat in heat than an actual person. A whine that was currently spurring on Akira, it seemed, if the gentle lick he gave the spot was anything to go by- a soothing action, one that was entirely out of line with a demon currently in the middle of mating. Ryo would be puzzled, if his mind wasn’t currently whited out with need, crackling with an energy that seemed to burn him up from the inside out.

He want...he wanted…

Akira let out a pleased growl, and Ryo quickly became aware that he’d been scratching at the back of Akira’s neck, fisting a hand in his hair to try to pull him closer. Akira’s hands tightened on his hips, pulling him closer, up and over- and then Ryo was seated in his lap, legs spread on either side of his waist, still-clothed erection rubbing against Akira’s cock as he pulled him down against him. With all but his wrists still bound tightly together, Akira couldn’t do much more than a few controlled thrusts- but Ryo was uninhibited enough to grind freely against him, and grind he did, seizing the power and the flashes of blinding pleasure that came with it.

“You’re enjoying this quite a bit.” The breathlessness of his own voice surprised him- he hadn’t yet realized just how affected he was until now. Akira responded with a groan, deep and guttural; Ryo bit his lip to keep himself from sighing at the sound, deep satisfaction spreading in his chest at the sound of Akira’s pleasure. The tight, constricting pressure of his pants was nigh on unbearable, but he found a strange sort of thrill in the act of denying himself any form of release, revelling in the scraps of control he still held over Akira’s head. “I bet you want me to take off the rest, don’t you?” A growl reverberated against his chest; Ryo ducked his head into Akira’s neck and smiled against his skin, not needing to look up to know his eyes were flushed a warm, glowing gold. “Do me a favor, then. Lay your hands on the bed, and don’t touch me.”

Akira tensed, still growling, obviously fighting back the urge to disobey. Ryo pressed a kiss to the column of his throat, languidly rocking his hips to try to convince him to listen; his pants and briefs were already soaked through at the front from Akira’s precome, slick on the inside from the outcome of his own arousal. There was a strange appeal to the idea of leaving them on, forcing himself to endure the torture of clinging, wet fabric, but there was an even stronger appeal to the idea of Akira listening to him, and to what was bound to come after he did. Akira was not someone who lacked in size or girth, a fact that was impossible to ignore with his dick pressed up against him and his own arousal bared. If his heart had wings, he was sure it would have flown out of his mouth, so hard was his heart beating with anticipation. 

Akira swallowed, cutting off the growl. And then slowly, carefully, he eased his hands off Ryo’s hips, pressing his palms to the mattress in a way that indicated he had no intention of letting them up again. Ryo tipped his head back, looked up; Akira was staring at him behind half-lidded eyes, irises a bright, flaming gold, quirked lip baring one fang in a halfhearted snarl- and yet he was watching Ryo intently, waiting for his verdict. Waiting in the same way a hungry wolf waited for the hunt, but still-waiting.

The pride that struck Ryo was immense, and he let it show in his smirk as he pushed himself to his knees and hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “ _Good._ You listen to me so well, Akira, so, so well indeed.” Taking off his remaining clothed was difficult when perched in someone’s lap, so he opted to lean back and use Akira’s knees as a brace, wriggling his way free with the one hand he wasn’t using to support himself. The relief he felt as his cock sprang free was almost as invigorating as the slack-jawed look of hunger that appeared on Akira’s face when he finally got one leg free, kicking his pants and underwear off with the other, leaving him bare. Ryo leaned back on his elbows and slung his left ankle over Akira’s right shoulder for good measure, fully aware of the way it put him on display, the adrenaline of it all making him feel lightheaded, nerves making it hard to focus on his next words. “You deserve a reward for that. What do you want?”

Akira wet his lips, flicking his eyes from his cock to his face, arousal and shyness battling for control on his face. Ryo caught his breath at the sight, held it for a three-step count, let it out again, hard. “May I...touch you?” Akira’s shoulders twitched; clearly he was holding back with as much control as he had left, though there wasn’t much of it to spare, if the way he was practically salivating with anticipation was anything to go by. Ryo felt pride wash over him again, a hot, heavy contrast to the cold needles of anticipation prickling in his gut. “Like...your dick. Your ass. All-”

“Of course you may, Akira. You don’t need to clarify. Touching me there is kind of exactly the point.” Trying for dryness in his tone didn’t exactly work out; his voice was already roughened out from sucking Akira’s cock, breathy with the weight of his own arousal. Waving his hand dismissively at some point over Akira’s shoulder did, however, let his actions convey a coolness detachment that was not currently present at the moment. “There’s lube in the drawer, and a condom if you need one, though I doubt it would fit you.” He eyed the swollen red glans of his dick with some humour; Akira had already produced an ungodly amount of precome, something that was no doubt a side effect of merging with a demon. Still, bringing it up was worth it, if only to watch the way Akira’s face flushed a bright, embarrassed red at the mention of it. “Warm some up by rubbing it before slicking up your fingers. It’ll make opening me up easier.”

Akira did what he said, squirting a generous amount of lube into his palm, and Ryo took a deep breath, trying to relax and calm himself. He was not new to fingering himself, not new to pressing things up there to see how his body reacted to various objects being pushed against his prostate. This shouldn’t be too hard to accustom to.

But Akira didn’t just up and press his fingers into his hole right away, nor did he dally by trying to jack Ryo off a bit first. Instead, he let himself wander; pressing his slicked-up hand to the curve of Ryo’s dick, tracing his way down to his balls, brushing his knuckles against the smooth strip of skin between his legs, leaving a cooling path of lube against Ryo’s fire-hot skin, a teasing trail that made him want to hiss at him to stick his dick inside and just get it over with.

But then his knuckle dipped, pressing against something there, and he stilled, eyes widening at his find. Ryo closed his eyes tight, breathed out hard, and tried not to think, tried not to  _react_ as Akira’s fingertips circled curiously over a slit hidden just beyond his balls, a slit already slick with its own moisture, an anomaly that, by all means, should probably not exist.

“As you already know, I am intersex.” Ryo propped himself up further on his elbows, very determinately not looking at his face, but at the hand currently between his legs, half-hidden by his dick. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the expression on Akira’s face at the moment.”I possess characteristics of typically male genitalia, with some female aspects thrown in. This includes a vagina, though mine doesn’t exceed much more than a few inches deep. You won’t be able to fuck me there.” He waved a hand at the bottle of lube, lying half-open near Akira’s thigh. “Hence the lube. Luckily, like most men, I am able to experience pleasure from anal sex by virtue of stimulation of the prostate, though- mmmph.”

He was cut off as Akira abruptly gathered him up in his arms, pressing him firmly against him in a bone-crushing hug. Ryo squirmed, trying to get free so he could  _talk_ \- but then he felt a wet warmth on his temple, the undeniable top of a tear, and succumbed with a sigh.

So Akira was being emotional. Big deal. He figured something like this would happen at some point-he’d planned for it. All he had to do was wait it out, and things could continue to commence as usual.

What he hadn’t prepared for was the way Akira pressed a kiss to his head, shoulders shaking, and whispered, as soft as sin, the word “Beautiful.” He hadn’t prepared for the way Akira swiped at his eyes with his dry hand, sniffling pathetically, and then cupped Ryo’s face, thumb wiping under Ryo’s eye as if collecting tears that hadn’t fallen. “You don’t need to cry. You’re perfect.”

“I wasn’t crying.” Even to his own ears, his voice was flat, coldly dismissive- but all Akira did was shake his head and smile, eyes still watery, and guide him back down with a gentle hand, squirting more lube onto his palm once he had Ryo arranged the way he wanted to. Ryo squinted at him, puzzled- but then a slick, warm finger was wriggling its way inside him, and all his thoughts narrowed down to the hot press of Akira opening him up, the sparks of pleasure that raced up his spine when he casually teased his rim with another finger, testing his resistance. Ryo’s prior speculations were right; Akira’s fingers were longer than his, clumsier and rougher, and the foreignness of the sensation sent pleasure racing through him in a way his own attempts had not.

“ _Fuck_ , Ryo,” Akira groaned, and worked his finger deeper, thrusting in and out of him in a way that had Ryo craving more. He nearly opened his mouth to say so- but by then he had grown loose enough for Akira’s other finger to start sliding in, and whatever demand he had been ready to deliver was repealed as Akira hooked his fingers and spread them, the stretch of it burning deliciously. Whatever words still left in his throat died out, leaving naught but a low, needy groan that made Akira shiver in delight. “ _Fuck_ , you’re so fucking tight. Holy  _shit **.**_ Ryo, god _damn._ ”

He twisted his wrist a bit, slid upwards just a little to the left, and-  _there_ **,** there, there was his prostate, and Ryo’s body betrayed itself to the find with a gasp and an arch that was entirely involuntary, trying to fuck himself on Akira’s fingers. Akira stopped, brows furrowing together in puzzlement, and, in a spark of impatience, Ryo hoisted himself back up on his elbow, grabbed a hold of Akira’s wrist, and jammed his fingers back exactly to where he needed them to be.

“Fuuck,  _Akira_ .” Bolts of pleasure shot up his spine with the movement, an intoxicating rush more potent than any drug; Akira was watching him fucking himself with his wrist with the same kind of expression that one who just won the lottery might wear, and the open admiration on his face had Ryo preening, had him gyrating his hips and arching his back in a way that he knew was provocative, a display that had Akira’s cock twitching against his thigh. His own dick dripped precome onto his stomach, sadly neglected- but Ryo had no free hand to use to jack off, and the fires of arousal in his gut were only stoked higher the longer he tried to ignore it, so he let it be, using only the thrust of Akira’s fingers and the guiding grip on his wrist pleasure himself. “If you’re going to fuck me- _aaah_ -then don’t stop just because I react to something.” Even trapped in a cloud of lust and demonic urges would not slow Akira’s concern, so he stopped any complaints before they started, smiling serenely up at him just as the corners of his mouth started to quirk downward. “Hush. You trust me, don’t you? Then trust me on this. I wouldn’t refrain from telling you if you hurt me.” He stopped Akira’s hand from thrusting forward, blindly pushing another finger towards his entrance, and practically purred in pleasure as a third finger slid in, burning slightly from the lack of sufficient lube. “And besides- I like what you do to me no matter what it is. Pain, pleasure-it’s the same. And I? I want all of it.”

Akira’s eyes lit up gold again, a possessive, eager snarl building up in his chest-he’d calmed Akira’s fears and thrown bait to Amon, all in one go. Ryo grinned, sharp and feral and all full of teeth, and pulled off of Akira’s fingers, ignoring the aching loss of them in exchange for getting up and pressing a hand to Akira’s shoulder, sliding the other one down as if reaching for his dick.

“Lube up and put your hand on my hip. Now.” Akira curled his lip at the pushyness of the order, eyes full of fiery heat; Ryo pressed his forehead against his and stared back with all the cool authority he could muster, dominance against defiance, ice against hellfire. For a second, it felt like he was being consumed by gold, drowning in the intensity of Amon’s gaze- but then something in the demon’s eyes flickered, and then dropped, leaving only flames of Akira’s arousal behind, a fire much more tamable than Amon’s fury. Blindly, he groped behind him for the lube; beseechingly, he closed his eyes and tipped his head up, a clear request for a kiss. But something in Ryo’s mind churned at the sight of it, something locked deep away and dangerous, so he turned his head to the side, letting Akira’s lips brush his jaw instead, and slid a hand to grip his now-lubed dick, guiding the head to press against his entrance.

“Last chance to make a request,” He murmured, hoping the shakiness in his voice could be attributed to the blowjob he gave him instead of overeagerness. “One I have you sheathed in me, I’m not going to let you go.”

“Ryo?” Something in Akira’s voice was rough, strange. Ryo tilted his head in response, curious as to what was wrong. “If you don’t let me fuck you  _right now_ _-_ if you try to force me to wait- I’m not sure  _what_ I’ll do to you.”

The desperation, the blind  _devotion_ in his voice stoked the flames of Ryo’s arousal, and he decided, with a touch of impatience at his own game, that he was rather done with waiting. He rolled his hips down, ensuring that he was lined up properly, and then took a deep breath and sank back on his heels, groaning at the burning stretch of being opened up by something much thicker than fingers. Akira threw back his head and bit back a whimper; Ryo felt the muscles of his thighs tense a split second before his hips bucked, a short, abortive motion, slowed by both the bindings and what remained of Akira’s self-control. Something in Ryo’s chest fluttered at the sight of it, at the way Akira was clearly trying to let Ryo set his own pace, and so he rewarded his good behavior with a sharp, teasing bite to the side of his neck, appreciating the way Akira’s throat rumbled with his responding growl.

Finally, he had sunk all the way down to the hilt; a quick roll of his hips ensured that Akira was buried as deep inside of him as he could go, and so Ryo closed his eyes and let himself adjust, let himself  _feel_ the width of Akira splitting him open, the stretch of it a burning pleasure curving its way up his spine. Akira was still growling, trying his very best not to lose control, and that, too, was pleasurable- feeling the heat of him all around him, the rumble in his chest as Ryo slid a hand down from his shoulder, the steady thrum of his heart as he pressed his palm directly over where it lay hidden, a clock ticking away the seconds of Akira’s life. Wildly, Ryo wondered what it would be like to punch a hole into his chest and hold that great heart in his hands, to press his fingers to veins and arteries to make sure they still pumped; but the intrusive thought was fleeting, and felt not like his own, so he pushed it aside. There were more pressing matters to attend to than wonder about the labyrinthine depths of his psyche. Such as the steadily-building, overwhelmingly powerful need to move.

A need that Akira shared, apparently, if the tightening grip on his hip was anything to go by. Ryo opened his eyes to see the welcome sight of Akira’s gold-flecked brown eyes peering up at him, pupils blown out with arousal. He let out a needy whine at the sight of Ryo looking back at him, tapering off into a growl the longer that he stayed stationary.

“Ryo, can I... can I...oh, come on, let me _move_ , please, let me fuck you.” Akira was gorgeous when he begged, and even more gorgeous when he was begging for _Ryo_ , his eyelashes fluttering, mouth a delicious downward pout. Combined with the slight nervous wriggling he was starting to work himself into, he looked undeniably like a puppy demanding attention; and cold though he might be, Ryo was not cold enough to deny a request from a face like that-or maybe he was unable to deny Akira anything period. Either worked. “ _Please,_ let me-”

“Of course,” Ryo murmured, raising himself up on his knees again. “By all means, go ahead.”

He hadn’t even completed his sentence before Akira had grabbed ahold of his hips and began to thrust, pulling Ryo back down on his dick and pushing him back up at a brutal, punishing pace. Ryo gasped, trying to regain control- but Akira was dead set on making good of his claim to apparently fuck Ryo into oblivion, and soon, all he could do was dig his nails into the back of his neck and try to match his thrusts, gasping everytime Akira’s dick brushed past his prostate, sending a flush of heat straight to his dick. And then Akira noticed, and tilted him a little to the side so he could thrust at a different angle, suddenly it was  _Ryo_ who was the one lost to the heat of fucking, crying out in pure pleasure as every press forward hit his sweet spot. He could barely  _think,_ could barely focus on anything except for the building sensation of euphoria beginning to sweep through him, the feeling that  _this_ was where he belonged, that he was stealing some small snatch of heaven by being this close to Akira, by feeling the press of him inside him, by hearing him call his name in a voice syrupy-sweet with devotion and need. For a second, he felt like he was on the brink of a revelation, too lost in the sweep of sensation to bother pushing anything away- and then Akira’s hand was suddenly tugging on his dick, stroking him in time with his thrusts as he whispered his name in his ear like a prayer, and he was gone, the tidal wave of sensation wiping his mind clean as he jerked forward and began to come, splattering hot white streaks all over the both of them.

For a long, blissful moment, his mind was blank, peaceful, devoid of anything but a fading sense of heat and the soft chiming of faraway bells. And then Akira hunched over and _roared,_ wings unfolding from his back as his eyes flared gold, and Ryo was jolted back into the waking world, alarm snapping through him at the thought of Akira transforming, knowing full well that he was nowhere near ready enough to be fucked when Akira was in full demon form; he had not been stretched enough, and the overstimulation was already starting to make his head spin.

“Akira,” he murmured, and then coughed- his throat was rough. Akira rolled his eyes up, growling low in his throat- but he didn’t fully transform. Instead, his wings mantled over them both, forming a protective cage, as if he didn’t want anyone to see them, as it Ryo was his alone to see like this, and nobody else's. Ryo’s heart soared, an interesting feeling when combined with the sharp edge of overstimulation still rocking his body, an edge that, despite himself, he almost didn’t want to back off of. “Akira. Come.”

Akira shivered, moaning out his name- and then he was coming, still grinding his hips into him, a hot spill of fluid that felt like it might never stop. Ryo jerked in his arms, breath hitching- he hadn’t accounted for demons overproducing semen, hadn’t thought of it ever being a possibility he would ever have to face; and yet here he was, locked tight in Akira’s embrace, unable to wriggle an inch in any direction as he was being pumped full of it. He could already feel it tricking down the inside of his thigh, a hot, sticky stream; he felt marked,  **claimed** , and the flare of possession that burned deep in his chest far outweighed any discomfort he knew he would feel in the future, once Akira pulled out and the remnants began to cool.

And eventually, he did, with a soft, shivering sigh that Ryo, even through the fuzz of his afterglow, thought was rather disgustingly adorable. Everything was sticky to hell and back, the sheets were tacky with lube and sweat and dried come- but all Ryo found he had the energy to do was to lean over to where he had tossed the key for Akira’s shackles and unbuckle them, right before settling straight back on Akira’s chest, the clatter of metal falling to the floor be damned.

(Fuck the chains. They could go clank obnoxiously somewhere else, sometime when Ryo wasn’t currently exhausted out of his mind from experiencing the ride of his life.)

“Ryo…?” Akira’s voice was soft, tentative, and best of all, fully his again. Ryo answered with a soft hum, but didn’t open his eyes. He was too sleepy for bullshit like that, and Akira was warm and comfortable to lay on. He could answer without opening his eyes, thank you very much. “Should I clean up? What about the bed? Um…”

“Take off the soiled sheets.” Even on the cusp of sleep, commanding Akira was easy. He’d anticipated him not knowing what to do afterwards, and had planned accordingly. “I sleep with multiple. We don’t need all of them. Use them to clean yourself off, then drop them in a pile on the floor. Jenny will take care of them later.”

Akira hesitated, then gently set Ryo down on the bed next to him. Ryo half-opened his eyes, watching sleepily as Akira awkwardly slipped the soaked bedding out from under him, then closed his eyes again with a sigh. He could hear Akira moving around his room; for a while, he thought nothing of it, until he felt the cool touch of a dampened towel against his abdomen, and opened his eyes to peer curiously up at Akira.

“Sorry,” he whispered, scrubbing lightly at Ryo’s stomach. His wings were still out- likely an aftereffect of Amon cooling down than anything of concern. A cursory glance down showed that he’d already cleaned up while he was away. “But I figured you’d want to be properly wiped off before going to bed. I don’t think you’d be in a good mood if you were sticky in the morning.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Ryo yawned, and turned over, lazily lifting a leg at Akira’s urging. “If it’s you, nothing about it will bother me.” In the dark of night, slurred with sleep, words like that felt oddly vulnerable. “If anything, I should be the one doing this. I was the one who chained you up, after all.”

Akira snorted in amusement. “No, don’t. I want to. And besides, the chains helped keep Amon at bay. I needed them.” He tossed the towel to the side and climbed up onto the bed, pulling up the sheets for him to get in. Ryo opened his eyes so he could watch him, eyes roaming over the hard curves of his body, trying to commit that moment of intimacy to memory. It felt almost surreal to him now; as if he’d blink, and Akira would be gone, lost to the cosmos. He didn’t want that gone. “Err...do you mind my wings? Or my tail?” Akira gestured at them helplessly, face flushing visibly, even in the dark. “I’d put them away, but it feels rather nice to have them out…”

“Then keep them out. They can serve as an extra blanket for us in lieu of the ones we ruined.” Ryo wriggled closer, eyelids drooping heavy, and Akira smiled softly, holding out his arms. Coming back into them felt like home, even when they had never left it, even when surrounded by all of Ryo’s possessions, in his bed in his apartment in the sky. “Now hush. Go to sleep.” One great leathery wing folded over him, sliding carefully under the sheets; Ryo could only hope that the smile he gave in response was hidden. “Good night, Akira.”

“‘Night, Ryo. And thank you, for everything. I really do feel a lot better, thanks to you. You fixed everything.” Akira buried his face in Ryo’s hair, tangling his legs with his. Ryo turned his head into his shoulder and hummed a response, but he couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling that nights like tonight could not last forever.

A ridiculous thought, really. Akira was a devilman, bonded with hell’s champion, Amon. There was nothing that could harm him, no demon or human on earth who could touch a hair on his head. And that was excluding Ryo, who had fought and tricked and bribed his way to the top specifically so that he could be powerful enough to keep Akira safe. There was nothing on earth, human or otherwise, that could harm him. Ryo would make sure of that.

And if they did...well. Ryo would not stop until he saw them dead. There was nothing that could harm a hair on Akira’s head and still live. Absolutely nothing.

He fell backwards into sleep, and dreamed of white wings and falling, all while the soft chime of bells rang from above, and the quiet sound of angels weeping filled whatever silence there was left.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If there are any errors pls bear with me I wrote and posted this at two am. Shit will be revised later, I promise, but I just wanna see this fucker posted aleady goddammit >:V


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